“Do you really have to go?” Wayn asks, tugging at my wrist, tears in his eyes. Ade and Ettin nod their agreement with the question.


    I sigh, giving them a smile that is at once incredibly happy, incredibly understanding, and incredibly nervous. Rubbing the back of my neck to assuage some of the buildup of emotion there, I kneel down so I’m more at their level. “You guys remember all those stories we always heard about the great heroes, right? Thalivor, Tide, Aralyn, Eclipse, and other heroes like them?”


    They nod, though they look confused at the seemingly sudden segue. “Well, I’ve been chosen to become like that. To get strong and save people like they do. To inspire people like they did. If I don’t go, then none of the people I have the potential to save will be saved. So, yeah, I do have to go, guys.”


    Ettin throws himself at me, suddenly, wrapping his little arms around my neck and burying his face in my chest. I freeze in surprise for a second before relaxing, wrapping him up in a hug with one arm and pulling the other two in with the other arm.


    “Don’t die, okay?” Ettin whispers, the sound muffled by my tunic. I chuckle, the sound getting caught in my throat.


    “I won’t,” I say, immediately throwing my chances of remaining alive for longer than a few years straight into the gutter. Still, I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I made them worry like that. “I love you guys; you know that? I’ll see you all again real soon, and you’ll get to hear all about my awesome adventures. So hold your heads high and tell everyone about your big bro being a hero, yeah? I don’t know what my Class or Skill will be yet, so it’s too early to come up with hero names, but I expect at least ten good options by the time I see you again, you hear me?”


    “Probably Major Doodoo Head is the top one,” Ade giggles through his own tears. I laugh, holding onto them a bit tighter for a second before letting go and standing up. I give Mom another long hug, as we already said our goodbyes, and then, with an exhilarating, scary finality, I turn around and begin the simultaneously too short and too long journey to the Council building. To the Grantor Node.


    The streets are strangely quiet as I walk through town. Not eerie or unsettling, just… empty. I half-expected to get stopped at every corner by someone wanting to say goodbye or give me advice—or at least shove a loaf of bread or an old charm into my hands. But there’s no one. Not a single familiar face.


    I’m not sure how I feel about that. Part of me is relieved. No awkward hugs, no teary speeches, no moments where I’d have to fight to keep it together. But there’s also this hollow ache in my chest, like I was counting on those interruptions to make all of this feel real. To give me one last connection to this place before I leave it behind.


    When I was a kid, I used to picture this moment differently. I’d imagine a grand send-off, something straight out of one of those old heroic tales. A parade through the town square, maybe, with Mom crying and the triplets clinging to me like I was the last piece of home they’d ever have. Friends and neighbors cheering me on, calling my name as I marched into the Council building, where I’d get my Class and Skill, and then…


    Then I’d be whisked through the teleportation gate. A flash of light, a rush of energy, and I’d find myself on another world, surrounded by strangers and destiny. Illari, or Del, or Estona I—one of the countless planets designated for the Chosen.


    But reality is a little less cinematic. No parade, no cheering crowd. Just me, walking alone through a relatively quiet farm town with an oversized knapsack, while I try to decide what exactly this feeling is welling up inside me.


    Still, I can’t say I’m necessarily surprised about the lack of fanfare. As awesome and relatively rare to the average person being Chosen is, there are billions and billions of them throughout the Universe. The System assigns them to the nearest compatible Class trainer, wherever that happens to be. It’s efficient, impersonal, and somehow both more and less scary than being Assigned.


    Less because you’re just another face in the crowd, one of hundreds of thousands under a Class trainer unless you can stand out somehow. It is more scary, though, because you don’t have the community in the same way that Assigned do, even if being Assigned is ultimately more dangerous, in the end.


    Assigned are different. We’re rare enough to be a huge deal, even in the scope of the Universe. There are billions of us, too, but spread out through the five factions and their respective planets. Instead of being shuffled off to some random planet that fits our training needs, we’re sent to specific locations designed for our exact roles. No guesswork, less scrambling. Just direction and a purpose.


    As an Assigned Sentinel, I’ll be transported to Illari.


    Even just thinking about it makes my chest tighten, like I’m standing on the edge of something vast and unknowable. Illari isn’t just a planet—it’s a supermassive world, teeming with danger and opportunity by design. Hundreds of Dungeons, sprawling forests filled with Mana Beasts, Demons, Devils, and resources I can’t even begin to name.


    Everything there is designed to shape Sentinels into what we’re meant to be: protectors, warriors, and problem-solvers. The front line when shit hits the fan.


    Chosen end up on Illari too, sometimes, but they’re not part of the Sentinel factions. They’re… visitors, I guess. Guests. Drifting through the system, learning what they can before they move on to wherever they’re needed.


    But me? I won''t just be passing through. Illari is my destination, my training ground, my proving ground. Everything about it will push me to my limits, test me in ways I can’t even imagine yet.


    Even just this morning, before being Assigned, I had been dreaming of at least being Chosen. Chosen would have been more than okay with me, even with all those downsides relative to being Assigned. I would have had power. I would have had something. Now, though? Now that I saw that Assignment? Things are different. More. Better. Deeper.


    And even though I’m nervous as hell, there’s a spark of something deep in my chest that I can finally put a name to. Anticipation. More than that, though, vindication.


    This is what I’ve been waiting for, dreaming of, working toward. This is what I had wanted in my heart of hearts since my Dad used to tell me stories of the greats every night before he passed away. Since I told myself I would make him proud, even from the afterlife.


    I will become something. I will be someone that he can be proud of, that I can be proud of, I think to myself as I finally make it to my destination.Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    From the outside, the Council Building is the closest thing our little farming town has to a statement piece. It’s bigger than most of the other buildings—three stories high with a peaked roof that gives it just a hint of grandeur, even if the paint is faded and the shingles look like they’ve seen one too many storms. The wood siding is clean but worn, patched in places with planks that don’t quite match the original color. It’s not grand by any means, but it’s solid, dependable—like everything else in town. Like my life here was, even if I was always wishing to escape to something grander.


    The front doors are heavy oak, darkened from years of hands pulling them open. Above them, a simple metal sign reads “Council Hall” in a blocky script, the kind that’s practical and easy to read even for folks with only a little schooling.


    When I push the doors open, the smell of old wood and faintly burnt oil hits me. The foyer is wide and plain, with scuffed wooden floors that have been polished so many times they practically glow. The walls are lined with shelves holding records and maps, and there’s a long counter where a few clerks are busy flipping through papers or scribbling notes. As magical as many other planets are, Auron doesn’t have any dedicated Chosen or Assigned presence to maintain any type of mana technology, so it’s all paper, outdated technology, and regular people running things.


    A young woman at the counter—probably just a few years older than me—looks up as I step inside, her face brightening with recognition. Her name is Allise. An old babysitter of mine who’d managed to get a job pushing papers here when she finished her own schooling. She seems happy.


    “Ren! It’s a bit late, but we’re not closed up, yet, so you’re just in time. What can I do for you, today?” she asks, setting her pen down and leaning over the counter to give me her full attention. She’s dressed in simple but clean robes, the kind that mark her as a town official without making her look too gaudy. It suits her.


    “Hi, Allis.” I give her a nervous smile, my chest pounding in my ribcage at the thought of getting to say the next sentence. “I’m here for the Grantor Node.”


    Her eyes widen in recognition, shock, and excitement. She all but crawls over the counter in her haste to get to me, bouncing up and down on the balls of her feet like a kid in a candy shop. “Oh wow, Ren, were you Chosen? You got Chosen?!”


    Her voice is loud enough in the relatively empty building that it draws the similarly shocked and excited gazes of the others that were working behind the counter with Allise, though they maintain their distance, which I am grateful for.


    Allise’s reaction gives me a bit of that feeling I was looking for earlier. That feeling of wonder and excitement for my own situation. An egoistic sense of accomplishment, as if I had won this by my own efforts rather than chance. It’s… nice.


    So my smile widens so much it hurts and I nod my head. “I’m Assigned! Sentinel!”


    She gasps, her hands flying to her mouth before they grab mine. She spins us both around, squealing with even more delight. It’s a bit much for a nearly thirty year old woman to be doing, but I don’t mind it. It makes me happy. So I let it happen.


    When she finally calms down, she starts leading me toward the back. I follow her down a narrow hallway, the sound of our footsteps echoing in the quiet. The walls here are bare except for a few framed certificates and one faded painting of the town as it looked in its earlier days—less farmland, more forest.


    “Ren, I am so, so, so happy for you! It feels like yesterday that you were the kid who was pretending to fly around your backyard and fighting the stalks of corn. And now look at you! Assigned! I can’t believe it!” She babbles, her voice echoing even more in the quiet of the halls than the clack of her heavy shoes.


    The hallway opens up into a room that feels completely out of place in a building this plain. It’s circular, with high ceilings and a skylight that lets in beams of sunlight, illuminating the space in a way that feels almost sacred. In the center of the room is the Node—a translucent, crystalline pillar about as tall as I am, glowing faintly with an almost azure inner light that seems to pulse in time with my own heartbeat the closer I get to it.


    The floor around the Node is carved stone, etched with intricate patterns that I don’t recognize. It’s the only part of the entire building—hell, the whole of Esh— that looks like it belongs to another world, something ancient and powerful placed in the middle of an otherwise ordinary location.


    As if sensing my awe and overwhelm, Allise quiets down, gives me an almost motherly smile that contrasts her earlier actions and gestures toward the Node, her voice soft but steady. “Just place your hand on it when you’re ready. It’ll take care of the rest.”


    As I step closer to the Node, a strange sensation washes over me. It’s like the air thickens, vibrating faintly against my skin, humming with a warmth that seeps into my bones. My heartbeat quickens even further, but it’s not from fear—it feels like the Node is calling to me, resonating in a way that feels deeply personal, as though it already knows me. Perhaps it does, even.


    When I finally place my hand on the crystalline surface, it’s cool to the touch. The moment my palm meets it, a rush of energy surges through me. It’s not painful, but it’s overwhelming, like standing in a river’s current, the water billowing past your legs, trying to pull you under if you’re not strong enough to stay grounded. For a heartbeat, I feel weightless, like I’ve been unmoored from the world, suspended in something greater than myself.


    And then I am no longer touching the Node.


    Or, more accurately, I probably still am, but the world around me looks completely white for as far as the eye can see. Plain, featureless, endless.


    I’ve heard of this. It’s called System Space. An area outside time and space. A liminal one. I could be in here for subjective eternity but no time would have passed on the outside when I returned to my body. Or my consciousness? I’m not exactly sure on the mechanics. I don’t necessarily have to be. Only the System and the Ascenders can really do this, after all.


    My thoughts snap back to this liminal version of my body and the space around me as the large, black lettering, more solid than they ever had been before—so much so that it appeared as if I could climb them if I tried to—filled my field of view.


    [Greetings, Sentinel Ren.]


    [You Have Been Chosen. You Have Been Assigned.]


    [Now, You Must Choose Your Class And Receive Your Skill.]


    [Please wait…]


    [...Just Kidding <3]


    [You, Ren Ellis, Are Special.]


    [More Special Than You Could Know.]


    [You Will Not Choose A Class.]


    [You Already Possess One.]


    [Class: Inheritor]


    [You Will Now Receive An Evolution.]


    [Prepare Yourself, Ren Ellis.]


    “Wait, hold on! What the hell does that mean? I don’t get to choose? But I’ve been Chosen! I get to pick a Class! Answer me, damn it!” I yell futilely to the white void around the very panic-and-confusion inducing message I’ve just been given.


    Everyone who is Chosen gets to choose their Class. You get three choices based on a bunch of different factors from things like temperament, probable aptitudes, and accomplishments. Of course, it isn’t that simple. Or, at least, we’re told it isn’t as simple as that, anyway. No other option, really, than to accept that as fact when there isn’t really any evidence to the contrary.


    Unfortunately, I don’t get an answer from the System directly. Just a sense of something building, and then I am convulsing on the ground of this never-ending expanse of white, blinded by a pain so great I cannot hold back the screams.


    As blinding pain subsumes my mind, the only thing I can think before I lose awareness of everything going on beyond that pain—the last thing I truly hear myself say—is, “What the fuck?”